


Take me Home Tonight

by Zoejoy24



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Auction, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Mutual Dub-Con, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Verse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoejoy24/pseuds/Zoejoy24
Summary: ‘Be careful on this one, Malcolm.  I don’t want you ending up as one of our victims.’Gil had warned him, as soon as they’d been given this case, to be careful.  To take back-up and follow procedures and protocols.  As usual, Malcolm doesn't listen.  As usual, Gil is right.*OR*Malcolm pokes his nose where he shouldn't, gets kidnapped and put up for sale at the very omega auction he was supposed to be shutting down.It's a good thing Gil will do whatever it takes to keep his boy save, even if that means buying him, himself.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Take me Home Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this picture](https://untilthepainstarts.tumblr.com/post/625700701663870976/whumpiary-and-ashintheairlikesnow-amongst) and the musings of my favorite babes (you know who you are.)
> 
> See end notes for additional warnings and tag explanations.

_‘Be careful on this one, Malcolm. I don’t want you ending up as one of our victims.’_

Gil had warned him, as soon as they’d been given this case, to be careful. To take back-up and follow procedures and protocols. Malcolm knows that Gil only has his best interests at heart. While many alphas would see Malcolm as weak or vulnerable due to his designation, Gil has only ever treated him as an equal. He only sees Malcolm as reckless and foolhardy, which… fair enough. But this case is different.

Malcolm understands that, and he listens - for the most part. He listened in the beginning, when they’d had few leads and there wasn’t much footwork to do, anyway. He’d let Dani and JT take the lead on interviews, staying behind the one way glass, keeping a low profile.

But then, he’d had a breakthrough on the way back to his apartment, and it would only take a few follow up questions for him to know whether his hunch is correct or not, so he asks the taxi driver to take a detour.

He calls for back-up - sort of. A quick text to Gil to tell him where he’s going and why before he puts his phone on silent and shoves it into his pocket. He knows what Gil will say. After a moment's thought he pulls his phone out and quickly toggles on his location. Just in case. Not that he’s worried, he’s just a normal omega, going into a business, asking some questions.

He leaves empty-handed; his new line of questioning had stalled, gone absolutely nowhere. He sighs as he walks out onto the sidewalk and pulls his phone out, glancing guiltily at the ignored notifications before dialing Gil’s number sheepishly.

“Malcolm, where the hell are you?” Gil demands as soon as he picks up.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Malcolm assures him immediately. “I didn’t find what I was looking for, so I’m heading home.”

“Straight home!” Gil barks.

“I promise. Ow!” Malcolm exclaims, slapping his hand to his neck where a sharp pain, like a bee sting, or a… “Oh. Oops,” he mutters even as he feels the effects of whatever he’d been injected with start to flood his system.

He’s unconscious before he hits the ground.

***

When Malcolm wakes, he’s bound hand and foot, blindfolded and gagged, and naked. He can feel the chill of the air on every inch of his skin, and he shivers, drawing his knees up to his chest both for warmth and for some semblance of modesty, not that it matters much, now.

He listens, hard, for any hint as to his current situation, but can hear nothing. It’s clear he’s been _taken_ , most likely by the same group that they’re investigating, which means his hunch had been right all along. For a moment he’s absolutely _furious_ at his own stupidity - not only did he somehow miss the signs he’d been looking for during all the questioning, but he’d put himself directly into the line of danger, exactly what Gil had warned him not to do. He growls in frustration, jerking against his bonds in anger, even though he knows it’s futile.

“Looks like the new little bitch is awake,” a voice calls out from behind him.

He smells the strong scent of _alpha_ moments before someone wraps a large, strong hand around his arm and lifts him to his feet. He tries to twist away, but another hand grabs his other arm, a second alpha scent filling his nostrils, and he’s easily overpowered. He’s dragged along, held up between the two men so his feet barely touch the ground. After only a minute or two they’re lowering him again, dropping him the last few inches so he lands on his ass hard enough to hurt before he topples over onto his side.

“Listen up, omega whores! You are all here for one reason, and one reason only - to make some alpha very happy. Your only purpose, from this moment on, is to service alphas, and make us money. You are nothing more than merchandise now, and will be treated as such. There is no use fighting, you will not escape. Disobedience will be punished, and any one of you who thinks you are more than just a body to be used and bred will be quickly reminded of their only true purpose.”

Malcolm’s heart begins to beat faster in his chest as the alpha speaks. The rational, law enforcement-trained part of his brain had expected this, of course. But that doesn’t lessen the fear when faced with the reality of his situation. He can feel the panic setting in - breathing becomes harder and he struggles to suck in enough air through his nose, his chest rising and falling faster and faster.

“Settle down,” someone snarls, grasping his chin tightly and jerking his face up. The gag is ripped free and he sucks in a breath, only to choke as a hand is slapped over his mouth. “You better stay quiet, and get your breathing under control right now, or you’ll regret it. You have two minutes.”

The hand over his mouth and gripping his chin both disappear, and Malcolm sucks in another breath. He forces himself to focus, tries desperately to recall all of the tricks he’s learnt over the years to calm his mind and fight against the panic. _This is happening,_ he thinks. There’s nothing to be done, and panicking will only make things worse. Gil knows where he was when he was taken. The team will find him. _They’ll find me, they’ll find me_ , he tells himself, over and over, until he’s breathing normally once more, the panic abating.

“Good boy,” the man purrs above him, patting his cheek before forcing the gag back between his lips.

They’re left in silence - however many of them there are. There’s too many scents for him to parse out. He can hear the occasional whimper or groan, the rustling of bodies. He’s not alone, but there could be three other omegas with him or thirty, and the number of alphas guarding them is just as much a mystery.

A door opens, and closes, and he hears hushed voices speaking from a ways away - across the room? He catches only bits of the conversation.

“...Got another one. Have room?”

“One more?.... Brings us to a…”

“Always room for more.”

“Walked right… easiest catch I’ve ever…”

They’re talking about him, Malcolm realizes. A late addition to whatever it is they have planned. _Good_ , he thinks, _I hope it ruins all your plans_. He has to wonder, then, how long some of the other omegas who are here with him have been held?

His thoughts are interrupted by a new voice cutting through the stillness of the space.

“Time to earn your keep, omegas. Remember, if you fight us, you will regret it. You are going to be put on display. You’d better be good for our buyers, better make them want you. The longer it takes for you to be bought, the longer you’ll have to hang around, and you don’t want that. Show them all what good little omega sluts you are, and you’ll be just fine and out of here in no time.”

There are sounds of movement from all around him, grunts and muffled whines, and then his feet are being freed, and he’s being lifted once more, this time by just one alpha. He’s guided along on shaky legs, pulled to a stop, jerked forward once more, again and again until finally he’s pushed up against something - it feels like a pole of some sort - and the hand on his arm disappears. He’s left standing there alone for several long moments, relying on his hearing once more for some clue of what’s to come. Most of what he hears are one word orders being barked by angry alphas, their voices carrying an edge of natural authority that is difficult for omegas to ignore, especially in a situation like this one where they are already under the physical control of the alphas who are holding them here.

“Sit,” a gruff voice says from behind him, heavy hands falling on his shoulders and shoving him down.

He drops, gracelessly, catching himself on the pole so he doesn’t fall over.

“Relax, don’t fight,” the voice demands, and for a moment Malcolm is confused - he hasn’t fought them once since he woke up.

Then there are hands on his arms and ankles, and he’s being forced onto his back, legs lifted. Malcolm kicks out instinctually, twisting away, terror and adrenaline coursing through him, and all he knows in that moment is that he _can’t_ let them do whatever it is they are trying to do. He manages to get free, lashing out with his feet and hitting something, pushing against it in an attempt to create some distance from himself and whoever had been holding him.

His freedom is short lived. A huge hand wraps around his bicep, nearly encircling his entire upper arm, and the fingers of another twist into his hair and jerk. He’s flipped onto his front, his head slammed down against the floor, hard enough that he sees stars. Malcolm cries out from behind the gag, tears forming in his eyes and dampening the blindfold. His legs are grabbed and he’s forced onto his back once more. There are more hands on him then he can keep track of, now. The scent of anger emanating from the alphas surrounding him is almost overpowering and he goes limp in their grip, whimpering softly, thoroughly cowed.

“I told you not to fight, little whore,” one of them hisses, and then he’s slapped, _hard_ , head jerking to the side with the force of it.

Malcolm groans behind the gag, but doesn’t fight. His ankles are lifted into the air, and he can feel rope being twined around his body, supporting him, restraining him, binding him to the pole. As the length of rope is wrapped around him the hands on his body become less controlling and more exploratory; gliding over his thighs, chest, stomach. Fingers pinch at his ass and nipples and brush over his lips, and he whines, trembling beneath their touch. Their scents shift from bitter anger to the sharp tang of arousal, and his body begins to respond, his own arousal building, though slowly. It’s not like it would be if he were in heat - a small blessing. His mind isn’t clouded with lust, and though the scent is enticing, it isn’t making him mad with need. His body’s reaction to the presence of so many aroused alphas is ignorable, for now. For now, the fear and trepidation he feels is stronger than his need.

The hands disappear gradually, the alphas moving away one by one, until there’s only one left, tugging at the ropes, testing knots. Malcolm is extremely uncomfortable, though not in any pain. He can only imagine how he must look - trussed up, completely helpless.

“You’re all set, naughty little boy,” the remaining alpha jeers. He slaps Malcolm’s ass, laughing when Malcolm cries out and jerks in his bonds. “You look good when you squirm, whore. Keep that up, and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

With that, Malcolm is left alone, immobile, exposed. On display - like merchandise, just as they’d said. A product to be sampled and bought.

“Listen up, omegas. Our guests are starting to arrive, and we’ll be letting them in very soon. Remember, take what you’re given like the little breeders you are, and this will all go just fine. If any of you misbehave in any way, if you fight, or bite, or make any noise other than to whine like the whores you are, you will pay dearly. We’ll sell you to a stockyard, and you’ll do nothing but push out pups for the rest of your miserable lives. Understood?”

Malcolm shudders. He’s heard rumors of stockyards - illegal breeding facilities where omegas are forced into perpetual heats and bred until their bodies give out from the stress. He’s never been really sure that they were real, but the threat of being sent to one is chilling nonetheless. He groans in despair, panic threatening to consume him once more as his mind starts to race with the possibilities of what’s to come. It’s difficult to breathe in the position he’s been forced into as it is, and it takes all his willpower to control his racing thoughts and to take deep, slow breaths. He keeps the panic at bay, for now.

And then he hears the sound of doors opening, and voices filter into the room along with an overwhelming rush of new alpha scents.

“Welcome, honored guests!” a voice calls out over a speaker system. “Shall we begin?”

  
  


***

  
  


Gil is breaking every rule he’s ever made, every protocol in place, and probably some laws as well. But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is getting Malcolm back. He’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen, and right now that means acting outside of his role as head of Major Crimes, and attending a highly-questionable semi-private event, posing as an asshole alpha looking for a piece of young omega ass to take home with him.

It hadn’t taken long for the team to locate the spot where Malcolm had, presumably, been taken. They don’t find his phone, but Malcolm had told Gil exactly where he’d planned on going, and Gil is certain that Malcolm wouldn’t have gone anywhere else - of his own volition - without telling him. From that starting point they pull any video footage they can find, working as fast as possible to sort through traffic footage and ATM cameras and the few hours of security footage they’re able to get their hands on without warrants. While looking for their missing omega, they come across more evidence for their current case then they have in weeks. It’s only through a combination of luck and solid police work that they find out about this event. But, there’s no proof that it’s anything illegal, and they don’t have enough to get a warrant.

Gil storms out of the precinct, and goes straight home. He has time to change and make it to the venue before the event starts. If he can’t go as a cop, he’ll go as a potential client. He doesn’t tell JT or Dani his plan - he wants them to have deniability - but he’s certain they’ll figure it out. There’s not much support they can provide in the way of back-up, but he’s confident they’ll be there if he needs them, if Malcolm needs them, in whatever way they can.

He changes into his tux - bought at Malcolm’s insistence for a charity event, and he’s never been so glad he dished out the cash as he is now - and fires up the Le Mans. He won’t exactly be arriving in a limo, but the car is flashy enough that he thinks it will fit the part all the same. He parks in the attached lot, and prays that they were right about all of this, and that he’s not wasting valuable time.

He walks up to the front door of the mid-sized event center with a swagger, exuding an air of confidence that he does not feel. He doesn’t have an invitation, but he has a passphrase, something they’d managed to get their hands on through pure luck in the course of an interview with one of their suspects. The man standing at the door is wearing a crisp uniform, and while his shirt reads ‘usher’ over the left pocket, Gil is certain he sees the bulge of a handgun on his hip. He doesn’t look too long or hard though, just smiles and nods as he approaches. The man greets him cordially, and Gil nearly stumbles in relief when his passphrase matches the greeting and he’s let inside with a smile.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary in the lobby. A group of a dozen or so alphas mingle in the space, presumably waiting to be let into the main room. There’s a table filled with light refreshments off to one side, and Gil meanders over slowly, filling a small plate without paying much attention to what he’s actually putting on it, then making his way back through the crowd. He smiles and nods and tries to act natural, taking cues from the other alphas around him. Many of them are on their phones, bored and impatient looks on their faces. Some are chatting in small groups.

Finally, a man in simple black slacks and a black button down shirt makes his way through the crowd to stand in front of a set of double doors.

“Good evening, friends. Thank you all for coming. This evening's stock has been carefully selected and displayed for your perusal. Please, take your time, and feel free to sample the goods. There are only a few, simple rules. You may look and touch to your heart's content, with your hands only. For an additional fee you may test the products abilities and suitability for a short period of time as well, however this will be closely monitored, and access is limited to the mouth only. If you need any further clarification of the rules my associates will be only too happy to assist you. Now, without further ado, please, come in.”

The man pushes the double doors open, and the group of alpha’s make their way inside.

Gil’s senses are immediately overwhelmed by what he finds inside the main event hall. The strong scent of _omega_ hits him first, sweet and enticing, with just a bit of spice, a hint of arousal, hanging in the air. He scans the room, eyes wide, and just barely keeps himself moving forward, the sight nearly stopping him dead in his tracks.

There are tall wooden posts scattered throughout the space. Each post has an omega - a very naked omega - tied to it in some sort of intricate fashion that puts their bodies on full display. Each of them have a tag hanging from their bonds, with a price written on it. Some of the omegas are hanging, some are kneeling at the base of the pole, presenting. They’re all blindfolded. Some of them bear light bruises scattered across their skin, but none of them look beaten or battered. He’s walking slowly, taking it all in, and it’s several moments before he catches himself and remembers that he’s playing a part, here. A quick glance around tells him that he’s not the only one who seems overwhelmed by the display. He watches as the alphas spread out across the room and begin to look closer, then to touch. He shuts it all out, and focuses on the omegas, on finding Malcolm. He wanders through the rows of posts, occasionally reaching out to run his fingers along soft, bare skin, always reaching for a knee or shoulder, and only when he feels the eyes of the one of the ‘attendants’ scattered throughout the room on him. He tries to look interested, rather than disgusted; considering, rather than furious.

He’s beginning to give up hope, having made his way through nearly the whole room, when he finds him. Gil recognizes Malcolm’s scent before anything else. It’s light, at first, mixed in with the others but it’s so familiar to him he knows it immediately. He tries to go slowly, to continue his unhurried stroll across the last few feet. From the moment he came into the room Gil has been steeling himself to see Malcolm on display like all the other omegas. He thinks he’s ready, prepared. He isn’t.

This time, he does stop in his tracks, rocking back as if he’s been slapped.

Malcolm’s feet are suspended from the pole, his hips lifted up so only his upper back, neck, and head are on the ground. Vibrant red rope snakes its way around Malcolm’s body - it circles his ankles, with one long single strand of rope up stretching up the pole, to keep his feet elevated, while more strands are wrapped around the pole at the height of his ankles, keeping Malcolm’s body bowed nearly in half, his knees bent and bracketing the pole. His hips - and subsequently, his ass - are pushed out, leaving him fully on display to the alphas who are wandering by. The rope continues down, wrapping around his chest and keeping his arms held securely behind his back. Two more strands of rope stretch up, from the top most loop around his chest and arms - which rests just below his shoulders - and connect to the rope that’s looped between his ankles, keeping him from lying fully flat, or straightening out his body. Hanging from the ropes wrapped around one ankle is a tag - a price tag, marking Malcolm, his Malcolm, as for sale. He can’t even bring himself to see what’s written there. It could never be enough, not for Bright…

“See something you like?” a voice asks from beside him, startling him and drawing him from his stupor.

“Yeah, uh. Yes, I think I do,” Gil stammers.

The man next to him chuckles, and Gil curses himself, silently, for his slip. He can’t afford to be anything but a bastard alpha, looking to score a sweet little omega. He isn’t Gil, and Malcolm isn’t Malcolm. They can’t be, not until they’re _both_ out of here, safe and sound.

“I think he’s the one,” Gil declares, walking boldly up to Malcolm and reaching out, dragging his hand along the omega’s shin, from knee to ankle.

Malcolm shudders beneath his tough, gasping softly and twisting his head as if trying to look up at Gil, though his eyes are covered. His lips are parted slightly, swollen and red, his skin littered with marks from other alpha’s hands, and suddenly a red hot flash of possessive rage courses through Gil as he thinks of other alphas seeing Malcolm like this, touching him. He should have found him sooner, shouldn’t have taken so long making his way through the room, he shouldn’t have let Malcolm out of his sight to begin with -

“You seem pretty sure about that. Don’t you want a little taste, first?”

  
  


***

  
  


Malcolm loses track of time, of how many people touch him, of reality. At first he tries to anticipate the touches, but it’s impossible. They touch him everywhere, though nearly all of them end up slipping at least one finger inside of him. The first few to touch him there make him jerk and writhe and whimper as his body is invaded, while disembodied voices talk about how tight he is, how sensitive he is, or how well he reacts, as if he’s just another model to be considered. The more fingers that pinch, and tease, and spread him open, the more sensitive he becomes, the more his body begins to respond. The scent of alpha arousal is thick in the air now, strong enough that it begins to fill his head with thoughts of being mounted, knotted, bred. He starts to grow hard, to the delight of the alpha who is currently examining him.

“Ah, look at that. He must like me, huh?” the man jokes, slapping Malcolm across the ass lightly. “You are a pretty boy, but a little old for my taste. Still, can’t hurt to give those pretty lips of yours a go, huh?”

“$50, 15 seconds,” the attendant says.

“Fifteen’s all? Ah, oh well. Better make it good, boy,” the man huffs.

Malcolm whines, shaking his head once before fingers work their way into his hair and his head is tilted back. Only one other alpha so far has shelled out the cash to take his mouth like this, to really try out the goods, but it was one too many. He can endure the touching, the fingering, but this…

“Open up, boy. There we go,” the alpha grunts, rubbing his cock against Malcolm’s lips before pressing forward, into his mouth.

Malcolm can do nothing but take it. He relaxes his throat and wraps his lips around the man. He’d learned quickly, the first time, what was expected of him, and that disappointing the alpha who’d paid for his time was not an option. What was meant to be 15 seconds had turned into a nearly minute long lesson on what was expected of him, all while the man had his cock shoved as far down Malcolm’s throat as he could get it. It was not an experience Malcolm wanted to repeat. So, he sucks, and flattens his tongue along the alpha’s shaft, circling the head when the man withdraws, only to shove back in, far enough to make Malcolm gag and choke.

“Oh yeah, boy, you’re _good_. God, those lips are made for this,” the man moans above him.

“Times up. You’ve had your taste,” the attendant says.

The man pulls out with a sigh, gives Malcolm’s still-hard cock a few tugs, drawing a surprised gasp from Malcolm’s lips as he struggles to catch his breath, and then he’s gone.

He’s left alone for several blessedly long minutes, when a new alpha scent reaches him, so achingly familiar and comforting that he nearly sobs in relief. _Gil_. His relief turns quickly to absolute horror as he thinks of Gil, of the team, seeing him like _this_. But there’s no shouting, or orders to stop, or team members identifying themselves as NYPD, and Malcolm realizes with a sinking sensation that Gil is here alone.

The alpha’s warm voice reaches him moments after his scent, and Malcolm’s breath catches in his throat as he hears Gil say he _likes him_. A soft hand lands on his shin, trailing along the length of it, and Malcolm shudders beneath the gentle touch. He’s…he can’t do this. His erection, which had begun to fade, returns in full force when Gil touches him. He’s so worked up, and Gil’s voice, his scent, things that usually make him feel so safe, only serve to heighten his body's response to the alpha’s presence. Gil’s scent shifts, sharpening, with a hint of something rich and overpowering that Malcolm doesn’t recognize, but suddenly Gil’s touch is the only touch he ever wants again, and Malcolm nearly moans when the alpha pulls his hand away.

“Don’t you want a little taste, first?” someone is asking above him, and Malcolm’s mind nearly short circuits as he thinks through the implications of the situation. If Gil is here, alone; if he’s chatting with attendants and touching Malcolm like he did, then it can only mean one thing—he’s here to _buy_ Malcolm, to rescue him by playing along with this sick game. And now Malcolm has to play, too.

Gil’s hand returns, resting on his leg, just below his ass, and he squeezes gently. Malcolm knows it’s meant to be reassuring, but he can’t quite stop the shiver of pleasure that goes through him at the feeling. His cheeks flush - it’s not like he wants to be in this situation, but he can’t deny that he _does_ want Gil. He wants Gil to take him away from here, more than anything, but… Gil, touching him like this, is something he’s dreamt of for ages, and with everything that’s happened, he can’t control his reactions to the alpha’s touch.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Gil says, rubbing circles into Malcolm’s skin, his touch possessive, claiming.

“I really must insist,” the other man replies, his voice taking on a sharp edge. “No need for you to rush into a decision and find yourself disappointed. We have a spotless reputation for client satisfaction and I’d hate to see that change.”

“You’re right,” Gil concedes, and though on the surface he sounds calm and collected, Malcolm can hear the tension in his voice. “I’m letting my uh, _emotions_ , get the better of me. Best not to rush.”

Gil steps in behind Malcolm, close enough that Malcolm can feel the heat of his body and the occasional brush of fabric against his skin. Then, both of the alpha’s hands are on him, kneading at his ass, running down to squeeze at his hips before drifting back up again, thumbs slipping between his cheeks. Malcolm moans softly beneath Gil’s touch, then louder when the alpha begins to circle his hole with the pad of one finger. Malcolm’s already loose, and probably a little wet with slick that started to form the first time an alpha started to open him up, his body instinctively preparing itself to be taken. Gil’s finger slips inside easily, though he doesn’t press far. He tugs at the rim lightly before pulling back to rub teasing circles around the edge once more, drawing more needy sounds from Malcolm.

“Well, I think you may be right. He hasn’t made those sounds for anyone else yet today. You must have just the right touch,” the attendant remarks.

Malcolm blushes, but he doesn’t stop. It feels _good_ , and he wants Gil to know that, too. To know that Malcolm doesn’t hate him for this, that, in some twisted way, he _wants_ it. From the way Gil is touching him, and the sharp tang of arousal that’s coloring his scent, Malcolm can tell that there’s a part of the alpha that wants him, too.

“I knew as soon as I saw him that I had to have him,” Gil says. “Seeing him respond so well is just icing on the cake.” Gil’s hands are still on him, one resting lightly on his leg, the other still held lower, his fingers still playing with him, teasing at his hole.

“Test him further, don’t be shy. Feel how hot he is inside, how wet. See what other noises you can get him to make.”

Gil complies - playing his part well - and starts to finger Malcolm in earnest; pressing in, gentle, but deep, with first one, then two fingers. For his part, Malcolm doesn’t bother to hold back on the moans and whimpers that Gil’s touch draw out of him as he fucks him with his fingers. He keens pitifully when Gil pulls his fingers free, and for a brief moment worries that maybe he’s letting himself go too far, but then Gil’s hand is on his cock and he doesn’t care anymore.

“Oh, fuck,” Malcolm moans breathily at the unexpected touch. “Oh, alpha, I… _ohh_.” He whines softly as Gil strokes him, and nearly sobs when he stops.

“Take his mouth,” the attendant urges. “I promise you won’t regret it. Since you clearly intend to buy him, we won’t charge the sampling fee. But I really must insist you see what a treat you’re in for once you get him home.”

Gil squeezes his leg gently again; consoling, apologetic. Malcolm can sense his hesitation, and he knows they’re too far gone in this charade for Gil to hesitate now.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs quietly, barely more than a whispered plea.

“Look at that, the little omega whore wants it just as much as you do!”

“Better give him what he wants, then,” Gil replies, his voice a deep rumble that sends a chill down Malcolm’s spine. He’s never heard Gil sound like this before, and he doesn’t know if he can be satisfied with never hearing it again.

Gil steps away, and Malcolm listens as he walks around his body to where his head rests on the ground. He whines softly as he hears Gil sink down next to his head. Gentle fingers brush against his scalp and Malcolm gasps, mouth falling open in pleasure, in _invitation_ , as Gil pets him.

“Look at those lips,” the attendant croons. “He was made for this.”

Gil grunts, his fingers sliding out of Malcolm’s hair and down across his cheek, thumb brushing across his lips. Malcolm tilts up, closing his lips around the digit and sucking. Gil doesn’t let him for long, pulling his hand away quickly. Malcolm pouts, licking at his lips. He knows he’s acting just like the whore they keep saying he is, but he can’t help it. His body is thrumming with a need so strong it borders on painful. It clouds his mind and thoughts so all he can think of is how good Gil smells, and how badly he wants to taste him. In what’s left of his rational mind, he knows that Gil will need _encouragement_ to do what he has to do next. Malcolm does his best to let Gil know that he understands, that he’s okay, that Gil has his permission to do whatever it takes to get him down from this damned pole and away from here.

“Little minx,” Gil huffs out, and there’s something in his voice that Malcolm can’t quite place, but then he hears the tell tale sound of a zipper being lowered and his mind goes blank. He mewls, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he waits, and then _finally_ Gil is pressing his cock against his lips. Malcolm swallows him down eagerly, tilting his head back as Gil starts to thrust in and out. Gil feels huge, filling Malcolm’s mouth easily. Malcolm swirls his tongue around him, tasting him and learning the shape of him. Gil moans, the hand in his hair tightening, and Malcolm hums around him in self-satisfaction, pleased at having drawn such a sound from the alpha.

“Oh, you little slut,” Gil grunts, thrusting in deeper.

Malcolm chokes, more from shock at hearing those words coming from Gil’s mouth than from his cock, and Gil pulls back quickly, brushing gentle fingers through Malcolm’s hair in a silent apology. Malcolm moans around him, sucking harder in retaliation.

He’s so focused on Gil that he doesn’t notice the presence of another alpha until he’s being touched—a single finger sliding along the arch of his foot. The unexpected touch sends a shock of pleasure through him so intense that his whole body reacts, jerking against the ropes that hold him tight. He groans around Gil, hips twitching in the air of their own accord. Moments later there’s a finger pressing against him and he’s seconds away from thrusting back onto it when Gil’s hand in his hair tightens and pulls painfully hard, and the alpha is suddenly growling angrily above him.

“ _Mine_ ,” Gil snarls, possessive anger rolling off of him in waves, his scent suddenly so strong in Malcolm’s nostrils that he can barely breath.

The hands that were on him are gone in a moment, but Gil’s grip doesn’t lessen, and he doesn’t pull back, his thick length pressed deep in Malcolm’s throat, claiming him thoroughly, displaying his dominance over his omega. While Malcolm appreciates the sentiment, his lungs are beginning to burn, and he tries weakly to pull his head back. It takes several long moments before Gil relaxes enough to notice Malcolm’s struggles, and he pulls out with a curse.

“Well, that was, uh, unexpected,” the attendant says with a nervous chuckle. “Why don’t we finish up our transaction here, let you take your boy home.”

“Yes, I think we should,” Gil agrees, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.

Then, Gil is gone, and Malcolm is alone. He nearly calls out for the alpha, biting down on his lip at the last moment to stop himself. Suddenly it’s all too much, the stress and heightened emotions of the day, that had disappeared in the face of Gil’s presence, threaten to crush him now that the alpha is gone, and Malcolm’s mind begins to race with every worst case scenario he can think of. What if they suspect Gil? What if they kill him, and Malcolm never sees him again, never knows what happened, and he’s taken away by some other alpha to be used like this for the rest of his life. How is Gil going to _pay_ for him? He doubts the other man has that kind of money just laying around. What if Gil can’t get him out of here, and it was all for nothing? What if he’d only imagined that it was Gil there with him, his mind creating a construct to ease him through the trauma of what was really taking place? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d hallucinated… Malcolm sobs, unable to stop the spiraling of his thoughts. He’s breathing too fast, unable to take a full breath in his position, and he starts to feel his head ache, his chest constrict from the lack of oxygen. He’s wheezing and gasping and no one is there to help him. He’s alone in the dark.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Relax, take slow breaths,” Gil says, beside him once more.

Malcolm sobs, body shaking as relief washes over him, and he tries to obey, but it’s so hard, and his body hurts, and every breath is a struggle.

“Cut him down, _now_ ,” Gil growls.

Malcolm feels a gentle hand resting over his chest, and then Gil is guiding him through each breath even as he’s being lowered down and freed from the ropes encircling his body.

“You’ve got your hands full with this one,” someone mutters. “Unstable little bitch.”

“I’ll be fine,” Gil grits out. “He’s worth it.”

Malcolm whimpers as blood that had been constricted begins to flow normally once more, the feeling of pins and needles sweeping across his feet and hands painfully.

“On your feet, omega. We’re leaving,” Gil orders, lifting Malcolm gently to his feet and holding him steady as he sways, lurching to the side and falling heavily against the solid strength of Gil’s body. Gil gives him a moment before he pulls him into motion, and then they’re walking, _leaving_. Together.

Malcolm is still blindfolded, and naked. He has no idea where they are, or where Gil is taking him. He nearly stumbles as his mind starts to race, feet stalling at the prospect of being paraded around the streets of New York City like this.

“Let’s go,” Gil barks sharply, then he adds - softly, for Malcolm’s ears alone, “I’ve got you, kid.”

Malcolm sags, leaning heavily against Gil for a moment as he gives over control to the other man, trusting him to take care of him

A door opens, and he’s hit with a rush of cool air and the noise of the city, and he realizes Gil is leading him outside. Malcolm whimpers, pressing himself against Gil’s body and hiding his face in his chest.

“Hush. Enough of that,” Gil grunts loudly. Then again, he adds in a softer voice, “You’re alright, Malcolm. Trust me. It’s night time. No one’s here.” He continues to murmur gentle encouragements as he leads Malcolm on.

Finally, Gil pulls him to a stop, and then there’s a jacket being draped over his shoulders before he’s guided gently to lean against the side of a car. Malcolm pulls the jacket tightly around him as Gil pulls the blindfold away from his eyes. Malcolm blinks rapidly, even the low light of the overhead lights overwhelming him after being kept in the dark for so long. He manages to open them long enough to make out the blurry shape of Gil, standing in front of him, and he reaches out to grasp hold of his shirt and pull him close before squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in the alpha’s chest.

“Gil, oh, _Gil_ ,” he sobs, nearly collapsing in relief at finally being free, being safe.

Gil wraps him in a hug, and then Malcolm’s body is moving of its own accord, and he’s arching up, wrapping a hand around Gil’s neck and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. Gil stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, at least not right away. After a few moments he brings his hands up to push gently at Malcolm’s shoulders, pressing him back against the car.

When Malcolm opens his eyes he can finally see clearly, and Gil’s face, full of worry and no small amount of confusion, fills his vision.

“Let’s get you home, kid,” Gil suggests, taking a step back.

“No!” Malcolm cries out, surging forwards once more and wrapping himself around the alpha, pressing his forehead against the man’s chest and nearly losing the jacket in the process, but he doesn’t even care. “Gil, please, I need…I don’t know. I need _you_.”

“ _Malcolm_ ,” Gil huffs, exasperated and frustrated and confused.

“I need to feel you,” Malcolm whispers, and he’s grateful Gil can’t see the way his face flushes as he tries to explain. “I… fuck, Gil. I need to know I’m yours, that this is real and I’m dreaming it, and I need… I need to come.” he admits. He presses himself up against Gil’s thigh, lets him feel how hard he is.

“Malcolm, kid, I’m not… we’re not doing this, not right now. I’m not going to, to fuck you, here, in a parking lot, after what we just went through.”

“No, I know. I know. Just, touch me?” Malcolm begs. “That’s all, just your touch. Show me I’m safe, that I’m yours. Please, _alpha_.” Malcolm knows it’s irrational but his body is begging to be touched, to be held by Gil, and he hopes appealing to the other man’s protective alpha urges will be enough.

Gil groans, dropping his hands to Malcolm’s hips and holding him in place as he steps fully away. Malcolm sobs, eyes wide and pleading as he looks up at Gil in desperation. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Gil rejects him now. He can’t bear the thought of it.

“Gil,” he pleads once more, voice breaking as he slumps back against the car.

“Damn it, Malcolm. You have no idea what you do to me,” Gil mutters, and then he’s moving, dropping to his knees in front of Malcolm.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Malcolm breaths, eyes going wide in shock at the sight. “Gil, you don’t—”

“Hush, kid. You should know by now that I’d do anything for you,” the alpha says with a small smile. “If this is what you need, you’ve got it.” With that, he wraps one hand around Malcolm’s hip, and the other around the base of his cock, holding him in place as he takes Malcolm into the wet, hot heat of his mouth.

Malcolm slaps a hand over his own mouth, biting down on his own palm to hold back the cry that threatens to escape out into the still night air. They’re only yards away from the building they’d just escaped, and while they’re out of sight, they certainly aren’t out of hearing distance. He buries his other hand in Gil’s hair, holding tight, though not pulling, as Gil starts to suck him off.

It’s better than he could ever have imagined, and more than he dared hoped for. Gil takes him easily, working him expertly. Malcolm’s been on edge for so long that he’s shaking and ready to burst in no time, the hot suction of Gil’s mouth and the teasing motion of his tongue driving him absolutely wild.

“Gil, alpha, I’m so close, I’m gonna come,” Malcolm pants quietly, desperately.

Gil pulls off and Malcolm nearly screams.

“No, _oh_ , fuck, Gil. Please,” he whimpers.

Gil smiles wickedly up at him, and Malcolm nearly comes from the sight of Gil’s lips, swollen and glistening with saliva and precome, and the lust that fills the alpha’s eyes. He leans in to press a kiss to Malcolm’s belly, and nudges at his legs with an elbow, urging Malcolm to spread them wider. Then, he slips a hand between Malcolm’s thighs and circles his hole before pressing against it ever so softly, his intent clear.

“This okay, kid?” Gil whispers, the thumb of his other hand rubbing a gentle circle along his hip bone as he looks up at Malcolm, waiting for a reply.

Malcolm nods dumbly, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to form a coherent thought.

“Good enough,” Gil chuckles. He presses in, and takes Malcolm into his mouth once more, and proceeds to drive out whatever was left of Malcolm’s sanity.

Feeling Gil inside of him, pressing against him, filling him, satisfies his omega need to be claimed in a way that he didn’t know he needed. Being offered up, touched and teased and worked over by so many different alphas had unsettled him deeply, left him feeling lost, adrift, unwanted. But as Gil takes him apart, something inside of him falls back into place.

“Oh, Gil, _yes_ , yes!” he groans quietly, gasping and moaning softly as Gil works him over.

The alpha slips a second finger in next to the first, and takes Malcolm down to the base of his cock, swallowing around him, and Malcolm tips over the edge with a high, breathy whine, clutching and Gil’s head and catching himself on his shoulder as he slumps forward, spilling down Gil’s throat. Gil keeps swallowing around him, sucking him dry and only pulling back when Malcolm starts to tug at his hair, whining desperately as the sensation becomes too much.

He slips his fingers free of Malcolm’s body, and the omega sighs softly at the loss, but then Gil is standing, and pulling him into a kiss, and he doesn’t mind so much. The kiss is soft, and gentle, and holds the promise of something more.

“Thank you,” Malcolm sighs, sagging back against the car, exhausted and sated. “For everything.”

A heavy silence falls over them as Gil tugs his jacket back into place over Malcolm’s shoulders and leads him around to the passenger side of the car, helping him in. Malcolm curls up in the seat, feeling suddenly small and unsure as reality starts to sink in. Gil crouches down next to Malcolm and reaches up to slip his finger under Malcolm’s chin, urging him to turn and look at him.

“Kid. I know today was a lot, and there’s some things we’ll need to talk about. But I’m still right here, okay. I’m always going to be right here.”

Malcolm lets out a heavy breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding in, and nods.

“Now can I take you home?” Gil jokes.

“Yeah, Gil.” Malcolm chuckles. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I chose not to use the Rape/Non-Con tag on this one because there's no actual, full on sex, which is what I interpret _that tag_ to refer to. HOWEVER please note the other **non-con** tags. 
> 
> I tagged for mutual non-con because neither Gil or Malcolm want to be in the situation they are in, and Malcolm has no say in what happens at all. However, while the situation isn't ideal, Malcolm isn't _entirely_ opposed to Gil touching him, either.
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, love Prodigal Son, and are 18+, I'd love for you to come hang out on the brand new [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/6ytNM9jDBf) that SomeRainMustFall and I started! It is open to all ship-positive, kink-positive people who are looking for a space to chat, get to know, and enjoy the show with other fans in a safe and positive environment!


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